Merlin's Secret
by Hisa-Ai
Summary: Merlin has no choice but to reveal his magic to Arthur when faced with a dire situation. But how does the prince take things? How will it change their relationship and the future of the kingdom? "Who did he trust more than Arthur?"
1. The Reveal

**A few things you should know about this fic before we start in on the fun stuff: Arthur is still Prince, Uther is obviously not dead, Morgana is evil but no one but Merlin and Gaius know, _but _Elyan, Percival, Gwaine, and Lancelot are all knights, I'm only on series 4, aaaand that's about it. For now. If there's anything else I feel you should know about this fic, I will let you know as soon as I think you need to know it.**

**Oh, and trigger warning: there are mentions, threats of rape in this chapter. So if you can't handle that sort of thing, I'd turn back now. There's nothing graphic, it's only talk, and it's a very brief part, but I thought I should warn you anyway, just in case it's a triggering subject for any of you lot.**

**Disclaimer: **I've come to accept the fact that I don't own _Merlin_ and that I probably never will. What I am still in denial about, however, is Lancelot's death. He is dead and I am still very sad about it, which is why I made it a point to have him in this fic. I love him damnit, and he should not have died as soon as he did.

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**Title:  
**_Merlin's Secret**  
**_**Chapter One:**_**  
**The Reveal._

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It had all happened _so fast._

One second, Arthur and Merlin were running through the woods, having been separated from the knights in an ambush led by Cenred's men, the next they found themselves surrounded by some of the very men who had cut them off from the knights, having no idea how there were so many of them or how they had found them so quickly; how they had gotten past them and had been able to get into place like that without either of them noticing.

But none of that mattered once the hostile, almost blood-thirsty men were around the pair.

Arthur pulled his sword out and pressed his back against Merlin's. Merlin had no weapon of his own—_why_ didn't Arthur insist on getting him his own sword when they were getting ready to head out that morning? They had been caught often enough like this that he knew it was necessary, that even with Merlin's limited combat training he could handle himself well enough with a decent sword if it came to it, that it would be bloody _useful_ for Merlin to have a weapon of some sort—and there was _no way_ Arthur could protect both himself and Merlin from all these men. He could try, but there was just no way he would succeed.

As the men glared at the pair, jeered at them, threatened them, wondered aloud what to do with them, Arthur scanned between them, searching for a weak spot of any sort, for an opening for Merlin to break through and take cover, get himself some place safe while Arthur... Well, while Arthur did what needed to be done.

"Got anything to say for yerselves, boys?" A bulky knight with tangled hair and a mangled face nearest Arthur asked, his twisted grin making Arthur's blood boil. He had faced this man many times before, had injured him, had narrowly escaped death by him, had killed many of his comrades in fights and battles and raids and games and in any other matters when Arthur's people were in danger and protection was required. He knew this man far too well, and knew that if he were here, it meant little chance of them escaping without harm. If they got out with their lives they would be too lucky.

"Look," Arthur sighed at last, finding that their grip on the boys was far too tight for Merlin to have a second to escape, and they were far too out-numbered for Arthur to do much with his sword alone. And since desperate times called for desperate matters, he could only try one thing. Just _one thing_ to attempt to save Merlin's life. He knew it had little chance of working, but... He had to _try_ at least. "You've got a bone to pick with me, but... let my servant _go_," he said slowly at last.

Merlin gasped, surely about to open that big mouth of his to protest, but Arthur jabbed him in the back with his elbow, he would not have him ruining the plan, he would not have that idiot risking his life.

The knight that addressed Arthur before—Sir Liwry, Arthur was sure he was called—let out a sound between a scoff and a chortle. His demand was not well received, so it seemed, but Arthur was sure he could reason with these men—with Liwry, at least. He had a manservant of his own, after all, and while he was probably not the best master in the kingdom—certainly not as nice as Arthur was to Merlin—Arthur was sure he would want his servant let go in a situation such as this.

Maybe.

"And why would we do that?" Liwry asked, his sword still poised, his grip still tight, his muscles still ready to go. Arthur bit his lip before answering.

"Because your problem is with me, not my servant. He has never wronged you in the ways that I have," he said evenly.

"Arthur, don't—" Merlin hissed under his breath at last, his voice tight with what Arthur could only assume was a clenched jaw. He was scared. And Arthur was going to make it right, was going to keep Merlin safe if it was the last thing he did.

"Shut up, you _girl_. You want out with your life, don't you?"

"Not if it costs you yours,"

"I can handle myself, you on the other hand would die if left to fend them all off. At least _I_ stand a chance."

"Not against this many. Not without your knights," Merlin shook his head, his hair brushing against Arthur's neck with the movement. Arthur shook his head back and brought his gaze back up to Liwry, who was watching the pair almost patiently. He always did like to toy with his opponent before finally striking the final blow. He was just dragging this out, hoping to watch Arthur's eyes fill with panic and fear. He was hoping he could make Arthur show the same weakness on the battle field that he himself had shown far too many times to still be alive.

Arthur would be damned if he gave Liwry that satisfaction.

"Let my manservant go," Arthur repeated, his voice still strong and unwavering.

"And what if I said no?" Liwry demanded, inching his sword closer to Arthur's face. Arthur let out a breath, letting Liwry only get so close because he held Merlin's Fate in his hands as well as his own.

"What would be the point?" Arthur asked after a beat, trying a different tactic. "He's but a servant who means less than dirt to the king, hardly worth your time when there are real knights of Camelot running around out here. Why waste your time on a mere palace boy the king wouldn't miss anyway? In fact," Arthur said, almost mischievous, "If you were to let a mere servant boy live while you killed the crowned prince of Camelot, don't you think that would rattle my father more than just killing me would? Why—he would be _outraged, _livid almost. He wouldn't be able to look Merlin in the eye ever again." Arthur almost laughed, hoping to get a rise out of the people surrounding him, hoping to get at least a few of them on his side. If he could get just _one_ of these knights to agree with him, Merlin's life would not be lost, as the will of many was often swayed by the one.

"But you're over-looking one fine detail, _Sire_," Liwry seethed sarcastically. Arthur's stomach churned at the look on his face, the look of a man who had already won a battle not even fought yet. The look of a man who had far too many tricks up his sleeve.

"And what would that be?" Arthur asked, curious. His father barely knew Merlin's name, he would not miss him if he were gone, Arthur knew, feeling a twinge of disappointment in his father. How could his father not care about Merlin? he wondered angrily. Merlin was a good servant, a good _person_, and for his father not to give a rat's ass about whether he lived or died—what kind of king _was_ _that?_

No, he had over-looked nothing. His father would mourn Arthur and Arthur alone and leave Merlin's death to Gwen and Gaius, and the knights he had befriended over the years, and think nothing more of him.

"You, dear Arthur, care far too much for the boy," Liwry declared. Arthur gave him a curious look, his eyebrows poised with the question Liwry answered without prompt. "If we were to let him live, you would know a sense of peace in your death, and who would want a thing like that?" he asked, circling around the pair until he came to a stop in front of Merlin. He reached his sword out and tilted Merlin's chin up and then moved it to the sides, almost inspecting him.

Arthur heard Merlin's low sounds of discomfort, could feel his back tense against his own and felt a surge of panic, of anger, rise up in his veins. "Liwry, if you touch a hair on his head, I promise you I will—"

"Oh, relax, young Arthur,_ I_ would never harm the boy. Cenred's guards, on the other hand, well, it's been a while since they had a prisoner as pretty as this one to keep them themselves _busy."_ Liwry chuckled darkly, a few of his men joining in.

Arthur's blood ran cold and his heart itself seemed to growl in anger. There had been rumors, of course, of Cenred's men doing unspeakable things to their prisoners, things that Uther would have anyone in his kingdom hanged for, but they had only been rumors before.

Until now. Until Liwry threatened to have it done to Merlin.

Now it was _real,_ now it was personal.

Jaw clenched as Liwry and a few of the surrounding men began to joke about the sort of things the guards would do to Merlin, Arthur moved at last and grabbed Liwry by the front of his chainmail. Merlin shot him a look as Liwry raised his sword and the men all came to attention, rushing forward to Liwry's aid.

Arthur was much too close to use his sword, as was Liwry, fortunately, and as the men swelled forward and he was certain his death was to come shortly, he raised his fist and pulled back, hitting Liwry's jaw with all the strength he could muster and letting him fall to the ground unconscious with the force of it.

Moving quickly, Arthur bent down and snatched Liwry's sword up, thrust it into Merlin's inexperienced hands and took his position at Merlin's back once again. Just before the men gathered closer around them and began to swing at them with all their might, Arthur hissed at Merlin quickly.

"Swing fast, strike hard, make every blow count, and try not to _die_,"

Merlin simply nodded in response just before the men came at them, all of them swinging their swords at them at once, each of them trying to land death blows.

Arthur, of course, was able to counter and block most of the shots, only one or two getting past him and scratching his arms in several places, but Merlin was having much more difficulties, barely managing to avoid the blows and becoming filled with more wounds and injuries than Arthur.

As another sword got past Merlin and he was struck once again, Arthur, thusly gritting his teeth every time he heard a blow make contact and Merlin hiss in pain under his breath, heard a terrible ripping sound, heard Merlin cry out in pain and felt his shoulders slump ever so slightly.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked, not bothering to hide the worry in his voice. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, peachy," Merlin hissed back, regaining his footing and squaring his shoulders once more as he gripped his pilfered sword. "You know, aside from bleeding out of more than half of my body and the knights who want to kill or rape me—just. _Peachy_." Merlin told him bitterly, bringing a small smile to Arthur's face as he slowly moved around, still blocking and countering everything that was thrown at him. His words at Arthur being filled with so much bite and sarcasm put the prince at ease for just a moment; as long as he was still able to give him such answers, Arthur knew he was all right.

In his mind, Arthur was trying to work out a plan. They couldn't keep this up forever—it was just the two of them, after all. Either the other knights were going to find them and come to their rescue, or they were going to succumb to them eventually, and die—_or worse_, if Cenred's knights were serious about what they would have done to Merlin. There must have been some way to get away, to find an escape for Merlin at least, but how—

"Arthur," Merlin began suddenly, his voice tight, almost wary to Arthur's ears.

"Yeah, Merlin?" Arthur asked, trying not to become too distracted by Merlin's words.

"You trust me?"

"What?" Arthur asked, narrowly blocking a sure-to-be fatal blow as Merlin caught him off guard.

"Do you trust me?" Merlin repeated, his words punctuated with the sound of metal against metal and his shallow breath. He probably hadn't seen as much action in his life, Arthur was sure, and this was probably wearing thin on him. He would not be able to keep it up much longer. Arthur _had_ to come up with a plan. And _fast._

"'Course," Arthur threw over his shoulder too casually, the question was rather absurd in a situation as this, but he couldn't be bothered to wonder about it too much at the moment. More pressing matters at hand and all.

"Good. I'm glad." Merlin murmured, blocking a sword on his left with a sudden burst of, dare Arthur think it, the hopes of _talent._

"What are you prattling on about?" Arthur mumbled back instead, his arms beginning to ache with every blow he blocked.

"Arthur," Merlin said again. "Whatever happens—"

"Don't—don't talk like that, Merlin. Everything is—"

"We are going to _die_ unless someone does something."

"And what, you're supposed to be that someone?" Arthur snorted, trying to pass off some humor to balance out the fear he had heard in Merlin's voice. He would not let Merlin die—what didn't he understand about that?

"Look, Arthur—"

"No, you look—"

"No, Arthur, _look." _Merlin insisted suddenly, catching Arthur's attention and throwing it to just near them where Liwry was stirring, pulling himself to his feet and making his way towards the pair.

Arthur swallowed and swore under his breath. He could handle a bunch of men coming at him and Merlin, none of them experienced or skillful enough to actually do much, even with the numbers in their favor, but Sir Liwry, even without his sword, could cause a problem. He could knock them out, take them off guard, give the others an opening to take them out. He would tip this fight for the worse.

And what was worse, was that Arthur didn't have a thought in the world that might help them out of a situation such as this.

~!~!~!~!~!

He would take his secret of magic to the grave, Merlin had been sure of. He would never tell Uther, obviously, and he would never tell Arthur, as Merlin was aware that Uther's hatred of magic had influenced his son in a way Merlin was always worried by.

He would stand by and watch Arthur rule one day, use his magic in silence when necessary, but he would never reveal his secret. _Never._

Of course, that had been _before_ he and Arthur found themselves surrounded by Cenred's men and had a very pissed off Liwry approaching them, looking about ready to skin them alive.

Arthur's knights were no where to be found, Arthur had no plan—they were going to _die_ if Merlin didn't do something quickly.

He was aware of the risks, aware that he would be risking his life to keep Arthur alive, but there wasn't a day that went by that Merlin wasn't doing that anyway.

He was aware that Arthur could have him burned at the stake for what he was about to do, but with Liwry's sword in his hand, with all the blood he had lost, he didn't see what—

Liwry was on Arthur then, trying to wrestle his sword from him as his men kept hitting him, filling him with deep gashes that made Merlin flinch just looking at him. His decision seemed to have been made for him, then.

Liwry took Arthur in a head-lock, spun him around to face Merlin, held their faces too close together. His blonde hair was matted with blood, his face stained with it as well, and Merlin saw in his eyes the look of a man who had failed.

"I'm sorry, Merlin." He whispered, shaking his head the tiniest bit that Liwry's hold would allow.

"_I'm_ sorry, Arthur." Merlin corrected, biting his lip. He threw the sword down to the ground, ignoring Arthur's confusion and Liwry's curiosity. He looked at Arthur once more, taking in a deep breath and listening to his thudding heart while he relished in the last moments he would have of semi-normalcy and, probably, of freedom.

Still looking at Arthur, still maintaining eye contact, he let his eyes flash golden, let Arthur see him for who he truly was...

And then he knocked out everyone who had swung their swords at them.

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**Mmm, I'm afraid I haven't much experience writing fight/actiony scenes, but I did the best I could with what I _did_ know, so hopefully it turned out all right.**

**I've been wanting to write a magic-reveal fic for the _longest_ time now, and this is what I've come up with. Next chapter we see the aftermath and how Arthur's reacting to everything. I've seen a lot of fics where he gets all pissed and raises his sword to him and is like, "WTF, Merlin, you're a god damn sorcerer?! I thought we were friends! Why didn't you tell me! Don't you trust me? How could you think that of me?" etc. etc.. I don't much fancy those sorts of reactions, to tell the truth. I feel like they've been done to death in pretty much every reveal fic I've read. So take from that what you will.**

**Always,**  
**Hisa-Ai.**


	2. Arthur's Reaction

**Disclaimer:** When I own _Merlin_, I will make sure you guys are the first to know. Until you receive that bit of glorious news, however, rest assured that I don't own it just yet.

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_Merlin's Secret:  
_  
**Chapter Two:**  
_Arthur's Reaction._

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Arthur had been incredibly silent for the longest time, staring at Merlin with wide eyes once Liwry dropped at his feet. He was still hunched over, eyes still locked on Merlin's even after they returned to their usual blue depths.

Merlin remained still as well, catching his breath as he awaited the outburst, the anger, the accusations, the sword to his throat, but Arthur did nothing, choosing instead to stare at him, mouth slightly agape. Perhaps he didn't know what to say, didn't know if he had really just witnessed what he thought he did. Or maybe he was just frozen with the possibilities, with all the different thoughts he must have been thinking in the moment. Merlin was sure it could have been either.

They didn't have time, though, to wait for Arthur's brain to catch up with everything else. He wasn't sure how long the men would be out, wasn't sure how much time they had to get away and put some distance between them. With a roll of his eyes to shake off the unease he was feeling, Merlin bent down and scooped up Arthur's sword. He thrust it at him and grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the scene, from the unconscious men as quickly as he could given the slight resistance he was meeting as he tried to tug Arthur forward.

"Come on, you dollophead—you want to get out of here before they wake up and try to kill us again?" he demanded, still yanking on his arm to try to get him to speed up.

"I… you…" Arthur mumbled at last, his eyes still wide but his pace quickening into a run beside Merlin.

Merlin braced himself for the yelling once again, for the reaction he had always been expecting. He was waiting for Arthur to declare he would be burned the second they returned to Camelot, that he would have his knights arrest him as soon as he found them. He waited for Arthur to rant on about how he couldn't believe what Merlin was, how he was disgusted and outraged that he had been so close to someone so vile all this time and that when his father found out about this, _oh,_ he would make him pay far more than Arthur ever would…

But still there was nothing.

No shouting, no anger, no disgust, no outbursts, nothing but silence, the mangled bit of a sentence Arthur had choked out hanging between them, so many interpretations available for Merlin's brain to fuss over. Was he just in shock, Merlin wondered, choosing his words, trying to figure out the best way to have him put to death—Merlin needed desperately to know what was going through Arthur's head in that moment, but his prince offered nothing, no words, no slugging him, no prying his arm out of Merlin's grip—_nothing_.

Arthur was doing nothing but jogging through the forest with Merlin, still putting distance between them and Liwry and his men. Maybe all he could think of was how close to death they'd been, how they needed to get away from those who wanted them dead and find their men, giving them more numbers, at least, should Liwry and his men find them again.

Or maybe there was something worse going on in his head.

"Sire?" Merlin asked tentatively, squeezing Arthur's arm before he remembered how bruised and bleeding they both were. "We have to stop, we… you're bleeding," he said softly, swallowing the lump in his throat when Arthur nodded and let out a sigh, halting his movements. He turned to face Merlin for the first time since they'd started moving away from Liwry. Merlin's heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes. It was not one of disgust or anger, but instead concern and compassion. Perhaps he had misjudged Arthur all these years?

"So are you," he said just as softly, his eyebrows knitted together in concern as his hand brushed at one of the gashes on Merlin's arms.

"Never mind me; let's get _you_ fixed up," Merlin insisted, his nervous hands skittering around to check on all of Arthur's injuries, trying to tell which ones were still bleeding, which ones would need the most attention, and if there were any herbs in the area that would be useful in healing and fighting off infection. Anything to get his mind focused on anything but the delicate matter at hand.

Careful, Merlin directed Arthur to a nearby fallen log and coaxed him into sitting on it before his eyes darted around, looking once again for any familiar plants that might be—

"You don't know how to heal?" Arthur asked ambiguously, making Merlin's heart do the weird sort of thing it liked to do when he was sure Arthur had caught him doing a spell in his room or when he was doing his chores or something. It was different now in that Arthur actually _knew_ about his magic for sure, but it still made him… _Nervous _in the sort of way he might never grow used to.

"I… I _do_, but…" Merlin shrugged, hands on his hips as he turned back to Arthur. "I thought… I don't know, that you wouldn't want me to use it?" he asked, unsure. Arthur rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh uhm, I don't know, because it's magic and you've been taught your whole life to hate it?" Merlin laughed bitterly, his nerves starting to get the best of him. God, could he just get it over with already? Yell at him, threaten him—_something. A__nything_ other than pretend everything was the same between them as it had been before? He couldn't deal with all this… Peace. With Arthur not being upset at him.

"Are you going to heal me or not?" Arthur asked pointedly, blantantly ignoring the question and Merlin's tone.

"Fine!" Merlin hissed, sitting down next to Arthur on the tree and letting his hands come to hover over him. Taking in a breath, he muttered a healing spell he'd done hundreds, if not thousands, of times before, effective enough to stop any bleeding that remained and ward off infection long enough for him to get back to Gaius so he could give him an herbal concoction that would finish the job.

His eyes flashed gold briefly, and he heard Arthur let out a gasp as the spell took hold, probably filling him with an odd feeling, the sense of being healed that bound within his blood and took hold. The feeling of magic running through your veins, even just briefly, Merlin knew, was an odd sensation if you weren't quite used to it. And Arthur wasn't used to knowing about it as it flowed through him.

"Better?" Merlin mumbled then, letting his hands fall to rest on the tree between them. Arthur looked over his injuries before turning his attention up to Merlin again, pursing his lips expectantly.

"What?"

"Aren't you going to heal yourself?"

"I…"

"_Mer_lin." Arthur insisted. Merlin sighed in resignation and quickly performed the same spell on himself, unsure what Arthur's motives were at that point. Did he want Merlin at full health so he could be at the full mercy of him and his father?

"Well?" he asked then, fidgeting with the sleeves of his jacket. It was full of holes from where swords had struck. He would have to ask Gwen to have a look at it for him when they returned to Camelot. Well, if he was allowed to live that long, anyway.

"Well, what?" Arthur asked in confusion. Merlin pulled a face at him, not sure what sort of game he was playing at. Did he want Merlin to get down on his knees and beg for his life? Did he just want verbal confirmation of what he already seemed to be a hundred percent sure of? What did he _want_ from him?

"_Well_ aren't you going to yell at me? Aren't you mad at me?" he asked at last, his eyes not meeting the prince's even as he spoke, his voice filled with so much uncertainty and sadness that he was surprised himself that he wasn't crying.

"I'm not mad at you, Merlin." Arthur sighed, nudging Merlin's chin so he looked up to his face.

"You're not mad at me?" he repeated, still skeptical. Here he had just found out that Merlin had magic, that he had been hiding this from him for who knew how long, and he wasn't _mad_ at him? Perhaps someone had landed a blow to the head that had knocked the little sense he had out of him at last?

"No, I'm just…" Arthur paused, searching for the right word for a moment before continuing. "_Disappointed_." He said at last, nodding.

Merlin almost laughed, his response was so absurd. _Disappointed?_ That was what his mother always said to him when he did something incredibly stupid and had been found out. That she was _disappointed_ in him and the actions he took, that she knew he knew better and could _do_ better. It always stung, of course, but coming from Arthur, the Prince of a kingdom where magic was outlawed, it was… almost humorous, to tell the truth.

"You're… disappointed in me?" Merlin asked slowly, scoffing at the thought. "What are you, my mother now?"

"_Mer_lin, I'm serious,"

"So am I. How is it you've just found out that I have magic and all you can seem to say is that you're disappointed in me?" he demanded, fists balled. He shouldn't be the one getting angry, he told himself, _Arthur_ should be the angry one and _he_ should be the stoic one, the one eerily calm and accepting whatever fate Arthur bestowed upon him. He should not be the one being riled up. He should not be egging Arthur on, but… He _deserved_ Arthur's anger. He had hidden who he truly was, had lied to him, technically, broken the law—he _deserved_ for Arthur to yell at him.

So why wouldn't he?

"Because, Merlin, that's what I am." Arthur shrugged again. "I know I should probably be angry, but I also know you had your reasons for keeping this from me. I just… I'm disappointed that you thought this was something you couldn't come to me about, I suppose," He shook his head, the corners of his mouth tugging into a fraction of a frown.

"You realize your father would have me burned at first light if he heard of this?" Merlin asked, hoping the gravity of the situation would finally hit him. But, it didn't appear that that would be the case.

"_You_ realize that I am not my father?" Arthur countered, chin jutting out defiantly.

"But you were raised to think all magic was evil! That all sorcerers are evil! How are you not even a little bit mad at me? How are you so calm about all this?" Merlin demanded.

"_Mer_lin, if I didn't know any better, I might think you _wanted_ me to be mad at you," Arthur teased, trying to coax a smile out of him. But now was not the time for jokes, now was the time to _deal_ with this.

"You should be!" Merlin declared, suddenly standing up, pushing off the log and leaving Arthur to stare up at him with a look of confusion of his own. "I… I've lied to you, broken the law, practiced magic under your very nose—how does that not upset you?"

"Because… you're my closest friend, Merlin. If _you_ have magic... then it can't be all bad, right?" Arthur stood up as well, straightening his armor before he let his eyes come up to watch Merlin. He had to have been a sight, fists balled, eyes crazy and angry, face contorted into anger and confusion—No, this was not how he pictured Arthur reacting to his magic at all. He wasn't supposed to be this calm, Merlin wasn't supposed to be this angry. Everything was backwards.

He had gone over in his head often how it might go if Arthur ever found out about his magic. He had pictured chains and the dungeon, all his friends turning against him and cheering at his execution, all angered and disgusted that they had befriended a sorcerer. He had envisioned hurtful words and physical punishment, the king demanding to know who else had known about this, if Gaius had knowingly harbored a sorcerer—things of the such. Things that foddered his frequent nightmares.

He had never imagined Arthur being _disappointed_.

Gah, _disappointment_, such an awful word. He knew how to react to anger, knew how he might be expected to grovel and beg for his life, for a chance to flee the kingdom, for Arthur to grant Gaius leniency, but _disappointment? _When his mother had expressed such a feeling towards him, all he had been able to do was bow his head and go off to think about what he'd done, feeling worthless and tiny until he was forgiven…

But how could he possibly react to _Arthur's_ disappointment?

"You're not going to… to have me killed? Turn me in to your father?" Merlin asked in a whisper then, letting the pain and worry come through at last, his own supposed anger giving way to what he was really feeling: Fear. Sadness. Uncertainty. Worry. Pain.

"Is that what this is about?" Arthur asked, his face drawn up in concern. He took a step forward as Merlin nodded silently, blinking back tears as Arthur reached out and let his arms come around Merlin, pulling him close. "I would never do a thing like that to you, you clotpole," Arthur teased into his neck, eliciting a chuckle out of him.

Merlin was… _relived_, he supposed the word was, as he hugged Arthur back. Still confused, but relieved. His biggest secret, the one thing he had always been worried about Arthur discovering, was now out in the open. Arthur _knew _and he still accepted him as his friend. Merlin didn't have to hide anything from him anymore—well, he didn't have to hide his use of magic from him, at least—he could be himself around his closest friend.

Of course, he still didn't feel right about this.

He had always thought that if Arthur had ever found out about his secret, he found feel a weight lift off his chest and he might be able to breathe without feeling like the fate of the universe still rested upon him. But now, Arthur knew, he accepted him, was even hugging him, but… Merlin still felt troubled, like instead of solving all his problems, this was just going to create a thousand more.

Somehow, he did not feel very at ease, though he knew his life was safe in Arthur's hands. He just… couldn't shake the feeling that, as hard as it was to believe, life would turn out to be significantly more tolerable and easy _before_ Arthur knew than after.

"Oi! Arthur! Merlin! You two alive out here?" Merlin was startled out of his thoughts, vaguely aware that Arthur's arms were still around him as Gwaine's voice registered. The knights. It seemed they had found their trail at last. Admittedly it was a bit late—or early, depending on how in-depth a conversation Arthur had been expecting then—but they found them at least. They could return to Camelot now.

"All right?" Arthur mumbled into Merlin's ear as the shouts of Gwaine increased, joined with those of Lancelot, Leon, Percival, and Elyan.

"Yeah, all right," Merlin mumbled back, bringing his arm around Arthur's shoulder to wipe his eyes off. Expecting Arthur to pull back then, Merlin squeezed him close for a second, relishing in the rare touch Arthur allotted him. This conversation was far from over, he knew, but leaving it off, at least, on a pleasant note… It would make the trip home that much more bearable and less stressful.

"Arthur! Merlin! You two—oh," Elyan cut himself off, stumbling onto the scene with the other knights behind him. Arthur lingered for a moment longer, squeezed Merlin and then finally let him go, standing with his arm slung around his shoulder as he greeted his knights with a small smile on his face.

"Bloody hell—you two look like death," Gwaine chuckled after a moment, striding over to the pair and throwing his arms around Merlin in greeting, knocking Arthur's arm off him. "What happened back there, mate?" he asked, thumping Merlin on the chest as he moved on to grip Arthur tight. Lancelot stepped forward and brought his arms around Merlin as well, the rest of the knights all moving forward in progression to greet their prince and his manservant, all loyal friends.

"Liwry and his men—it was an ambush," Arthur replied grimly, shaking his head as the knights watched them, all wanting to hear the story.

Lancelot caught Merlin's eye, and Merlin recognized the look in his eyes, the curious, if albeit suspicious look that always came when he suspected Merlin had used his magic for something. Hoping his eyes had cleared of their tears, he shook his head, giving Lancelot the half smile he always gave him. He smiled back, shaking his own head and then turned back to Arthur and the end of his story.

"You two took out all those men on your own?" Leon asked, surprise in his voice. Merlin was going to deny it, say that he had done little and it was all Arthur—despite his cabbage head, he actually _was_ pretty capable in battle—but before he could, Arthur punched him on the shoulder in the affectionate way Merlin had seen him do with the knights and grinned.

"Well, as it turns out, Merlin here isn't so useless with a sword after all, right Merlin?" he asked, still grinning. Merlin just rolled his eyes, glad, at least, that he had mentioned nothing of his magic. He hadn't expected him to, but still…

"Oh, yeah, I'm real skilled—can't you tell from all these scrapes?" he held out his arms, offering up proof of his incompetence.

"Oohh, Merlin's first battle wounds—our little boy's growing up!" Gwaine exclaimed, wiping non-existent tears from his eyes. He grinned and rolled his eyes back, the talk falling on to the specifics of the battle and where they had left the horses. They needed to get back to Camelot and report to Uther, leave the decision of what to do about Cenred and his attempt on Arthur's life up to him.

It was decided that they would make the journey back to where they had left the horses and would ride through the early evening, arriving back at the castle just before it became too dark to see. As Arthur took the lead, referencing Leon on where they had left the horses exactly, he caught Merlin's eye, smiling at him for the briefest of seconds before turning his attention back to the road and the brush they had to climb over.

Merlin knew then, illegal or not, his magic would not change things between the pair of them. Not for the better, and not for the worse.

It did nothing to change the pit he felt in the bottom of his stomach either, but Merlin was more than willing to attribute that to nerves and blood loss. Just for the moment.

* * *

**Merlin seems to have gotten off _pretty _easy here, huh? Don't worry, we'll fix that soon enough. I have plans for this fic, I have plans for those boys. This fic is not going to be all about the reveal, you know. No, we're going to have bigger fish to fry, I just wanted to get Merlin's magic out there before we started in on everything else.**

**And I know it might have seemed a bit repetitive at times, what with Merlin obsessing every few sentences over what Arthur was thinking or what he would have done to him or what he _should_ have been saying and things like that, but, you know, it must be a pretty stressful situation, and I was trying to show how nervous and worried Merlin must have been in the moment. Just wanted to clear that up.**

**Stay tuned.**

**Always,  
Hisa-Ai.**


	3. Gaius' Warning

**Disclaimer: **Meh, you know the deal, _Merlin_ is owned by people who are not me. People who got to experience the adorableness of Colin Morgan and Bradley James in person and got to make them do pretty much anything they wanted them to. Like, no, how do you _not_ abuse that power? I would make all the hot boys make-out with each other several times a day just for the hell of it. I suppose that might be why I'm not in charge of such things, though, now that I think about it...

* * *

_Merlin's Secret_

**Chapter 3:**  
_Gaius' Warning_

* * *

"Arthur _knows?" _Gaius asked over dinner that night, his tone unbelieving and baffled. Merlin nodded slowly, brought his spoon up to his mouth and sucked down the warm broth that had been heated up for the night. After the day he'd been through, after all the injuries he had to heal and the stress he had been put under, Gaius had decided a light meal of broth and bread would suit him just fine to go with the herbal concoction he was meant to take that night and every night for at least a week.

"He knows," Merlin affirmed, nodding his head. He had thought it best to tell Gaius as soon as they had a spare moment together. He needed his input on the whole situation and for someone to tell him whether he was crazy or not for doubting Arthur's reaction. And since Lancelot was at the tavern anyway, who better for the job than Gaius, someone who had been trusted with his secret for years?

"How? Did you tell him?" he asked, probably just as surprised as Merlin was that he was still walking around in freedom.

"Well, not in so many words," Merlin said sheepishly, quickly relaying the story of what had happened that afternoon—the _real_ version, the one with magic and doubt and fears and their conversation afterwards that Merlin knew to be true and not the fake, sloppily constructed one that had the pair escaping by sheer dumb luck that Arthur had fed Uther upon arriving back at the palace—to him. Gaius listened in silence, taking in everything Merlin said as he usually did and pondering for a moment as they sipped on their broth once the tale was finished.

"Well? What do you think?" Merlin asked after a moment, wanting more than anything to have a second opinion on everything that had taken place that day. It almost felt like a dream, like it hadn't really happened. But it _had_, and it was _real_ and he just... he needed to hear Gaius tell him that he wasn't crazy and that it was _all right _that Arthur hadn't reacted the way he had always expected him to.

He just needed to be lied to, more than anything at the moment.

But Gaius would never do that to him.

"I think it's very odd that Arthur wasn't mad at you," Gaius said at last, confirming what he had thought all along, and making his stomach drop.

"How do you mean?" Merlin questioned. He himself had thought it odd, of course, had even pushed for the anger to come boiling out of Arthur, but he thought he _deserved_ the anger. Gaius, though… Well, he couldn't think Merlin deserved the anger as well, could he? No, he wouldn't. So why was it abnormal then? What made it so odd? He needed the words, needed someone else to properly translate what was so wrong about the situation that he himself could not quite pinpoint.

"Arthur has been brought up to think all magic is evil. He has seen many men and women put to death simply because someone breathed their name and magic in the same sentence," Gaius began, shaking his head as he dipped a bit of bread into his broth and took a bite out of it. "And though he has been known to show more compassion than Uther in many situations, discovering that his most trusted servant has been hiding something such as this from him for as long as he's known him… He should not be taking this news so lightly," He finished, turning his wise gaze upon Merlin as he swallowed a bit of food.

"I know that, and I thought… I thought he would be _furious_ with me, but… I don't know, no matter what I said, he didn't—he _wouldn't_… You know, explode at me. He just kept saying how disappointed he was with me." Merlin shook his head, waiting for Gaius' explanation.

"It may have been just escaping certain death that left him with a sense of gratefulness that you were both still alive," Gaius suggested. "Compared to dying, he may have been feeling disappointed in the moment. Perhaps whatever he would have felt under normal circumstances is simply buried for the time being," his tone sounded almost like a warning, confirming what Merlin had been suspecting all along. This was not over. Of course it wasn't. Why would he ever think that?

"So… what does that mean?" Merlin prompted, wanting to be _certain_ of what Gaius was saying.

"I fear, Merlin, that it means… Perhaps his anger has yet to come to the surface. It might be buried somewhere underneath the relief and gratefulness that you both are still alive, but I'm not so sure it's going to stay that way for long. I fear that the longer his anger stays buried, the longer he tries to deny it and is left unable to express it, the more destructive it will be once it comes to the surface." He finished grimly.

"So Arthur's just a big ball of anger underneath all his disappointment?"

"I believe that may be the case. You _are_ his servant, after all, and you have been lying to him all these years, hiding your true self from him all this time. Once he realizes just how upset this situation truly makes him… I'm afraid it will not end well for you, Merlin." Gaius shook his head, his face mirroring the pain and concern Merlin felt in his bones as his blood ran cold.

For a moment, he thought—seriously considered—that Arthur's anger, once released upon him, might result in his death. If his anger about the situation was truly left to stew and remain buried for who knew how long, how might he truly react to it? At least, if he had shown his anger right away, he would have gotten it all out at once, it would not have had time to increase, eat away at him. But, left to sit and be forgotten about, Merlin wasn't sure what such anger could do to a person like Arthur.

"What do you suppose he will have done to me?" he asked quietly.

"He would not have you put to death," Gaius assured him. "Arthur is much too loyal and protective of you for something like that. But… he may become aggressive, he may take digs at you, put you to harder work, give you more to do, maybe even make it harder for you to use your magic around him for a while."

"So, what, he's just going to be a passive-aggressive prat about the whole thing? That's hardly new," Merlin chuckled, though he could tell from the look Gaius gave him that humor was hardly the emotion he should be exhibiting at the moment.

"Merlin, this is _serious_." Gaius scolded. "If you're not careful, Arthur's anger could consume him, could turn him bitter. It could ruin your very relationship and any chance of magic ever being accepted within the kingdom," he warned, his tone harder and laced with the severity of the situation.

"Wait, so, because Arthur knows I have magic, Albion will never be?" Merlin asked in concern, his tone suddenly sober. That was not what he wanted—would never be what he wanted. But... what _did_ he want? He wanted Arthur to just accept him as he was, wanted to not face the fear of death simply for being, wanted magic to be allowed within the kingdom, wanted... Wanted Arthur to _just_...

"No, it's not quite there yet, but… there is a very distinct possibility of that happening, if his anger is allowed to stew for too long." Gaius sighed, his face aged with the burden of his words.

"So tell me how to fix this." Merlin urged desperately. He couldn't take back Arthur knowing about his magic—he wasn't even sure if he wanted to, truth be told—but he could try to fix whatever damage it might cause. At the very least.

"I suppose," Gaius sighed once more, sitting back in his chair. "The only way to prevent Arthur from becoming bitter over this is to simply allow it to run its course,"

"But I thought letting it run its course is what would corrupt him?"

"No, that's if he keeps it buried. To let it run its course, you need to bring out the anger in him. Let it come out and let him work through it," Gaius said, his face pensive with the thought.

Merlin could have laughed at the suggestion, was he understanding right? Was Gaius _actually_ telling him to make Arthur mad and not just put up with the prat and his outbursts? Was he actually saying Merlin should make Arthur mad _on purpose?_

"Wait, are you saying that I have to _purposely_ get him mad at me? Well, that shouldn't be too hard," he grinned.

"No, Merlin," Gaius said with the patience of the old man Merlin often forgot he was. "You need to get him just mad enough that his suppressed anger comes out, but not so angry that it consumes him. There is a very fine line when it comes to delicate matters such as this. If you make him too angry, all will be lost; not angry enough and it won't make a difference anyway." He explained carefully. Merlin nodded, trying to understand.

"So how will I know when he's worked through all his anger?"

"_That_ I don't know." Gaius shrugged, falling back into a rhythm of sipping on his broth and letting Merlin finish his, the conversation falling into the sort of lull such talks often did, leaving the mood heavy and dark and full of too many thoughts for the sort of day Merlin had had.

It had been a long one indeed, and he was tired, with enough to chew over as it was before Gaius had added all this to his plate. Now he would toss and turn all night against his sleep wanting bones, wondering just how he might go about pissing off Arthur. He had done it on accident plenty of times before, but on purpose? He hadn't been that stupid in a while now, he might have forgotten how it was properly done.

Suppressing a wry smile as he brought the bowl up to his mouth to drain the dregs of his broth, Merlin couldn't help but see the humor in the situation. Arthur knew he had magic, and now he had to work to purposefully and efficiently press his buttons to get him to blow up.

It might take a few days of thought to perfect any sort of ideas he had to do it, but Merlin was sure his job might have just become more interesting than it'd been in a long while now.

* * *

**I spent a long time trying to decide whether I should include this chapter or not, and finally just decided to give it to you guys to keep you happy until the next chapter—one I _really_ enjoyed writing—is ready to go. Gotta keep you guys happy, after all.**

**Always,  
Hisa-Ai.**


	4. Morgana's Revenge

**This is probably my favorite chapter so far. Just because I loved writing it so much.**

**Disclaimer: **I still somehow don't own Merlin. I don't know how I would go about acquiring the rights to it, but I'll figure it out one of these days. Just you wait.

* * *

_Merlin's Secret_

**Chapter 4:**  
_Morgana's Revenge_

* * *

Slipping out of her room in the dead of night with her dark cloak tucked around her body, hood pulled up to hide her dark hair, Morgana stalked through the halls of the palace, hugging the shadows with purpose as she avoided all the guards that were stationed at their usual posts. They were all useless, of course, easily taken out if they caught sight of her or if she felt it necessary to get rid of them, but tonight they would all keep their lives. Tonight, she had more important matters to attend to.

With a scowl planted on her face, she pushed the door open to her usual meeting place with Morgause and walked up to her sister, who was peculiarly early for once, given the short notice Morgana had requested her at.

"Sister, what is it you wished to speak of so urgently?" Morgause asked, forgoing the greetings, her brow creased in concern as Morgana approached her, her anger and displeasure so palpable they echoed off the very walls around them.

"Arthur and that _servant_ of his returned to the palace alive," she spat, pushing her hood down and sneering at the mere thought of it. Morgause had promised, had given her _word_, that Cenred had sent his best men to do the job this time. _This time_, she had promised, there was no chance of Arthur returning to Camelot alive once Cenred's men got their hands on them.

Which was why it had been hard for Morgana to hide the look on her face when she gazed out her window as the progression of horses came through the courtyard and Arthur had dismounted, looking disheveled and a bit bloody, but no worse for wear than he usually was when returning from a battle. She watched and bit her tongue, fought back her scowl as Merlin then dismounted along with the other knights and handed their horses off then walked up the stairs, all laughing and talking as they usually did when returning from a battle or quest.

She had gathered as much information as she could on what happened through-out the night and at dinner after sending word to Morgause to meet her in the palace that very night—something they tried not to do unless it was urgent—and the way Arthur told it, they had been surrounded, out-numbered, and cut off from the knights. How they had managed to escape with their lives, Morgana had no clue, but it took everything in her power to smile and tell Arthur that she was glad he had returned in one piece and to not throw her goblet at the wall nearest her.

This had not been the plan.

"Yes, sister, I am aware of the change in events." Morgause told her, reaching out to stroke back a lock of her thick hair.

"So tell me how they managed to do it!" Morgana hissed, displeasure on her face. They had been _so close__!_ If Cenred's men had only finished the job, they would be having a different sort of conversation in the throne room instead, with Uther dead or dying, and Morgause at her side as her trusted advisor. Instead, they were left sneaking around under the cover of night, their plans falling through once again due to someone else's incompetence.

Such _insolence_.

"We recovered the leader, the man Cenred was sure would be able to finish the job," Morgause began in a hush. "And he says they were helpless. They were surrounded and he was sure his men would finish off Arthur and then grab the boy and bring him back to us to see what sort of information we could get out of him," she told her, her tone one of urgency and sincerity.

"So what happened? Did that fool underestimate Arthur once again?" Morgana demanded. They had made that mistake one too many times before, but Morgause had assured her that _this time_ it would be different.

Her sister seemed to be full of nothing but empty promises and broken words these days.

Morgana hoped, for both of them, that it was just a fluke, just Cenred being his useless self and not her sister purposely trying to mess things up. She could never suspect her sister of plotting against her behind her back, of trying to make all their perfectly laid plans fall apart. But if they continued to fail too many times on such simple matters, what else was she going to be able to think one of these days?

"It was not Arthur who was the problem," Morgause answered carefully, her own face taking on a sort of sneer that marred her otherwise perfect features.

"The servant?" Morgana scoffed. She had known Merlin for just as many years as Arthur had, and, while loyal and stupidly brave, he was nothing more than a minor nuisance at best, easily taken care of even on her worst days. What sort of threat could he possibly be?

"The boy, Merlin, yes," Morgause nodded, her lips curling up in a devilish sort of way that both amused and agitated Morgana. Like she was keeping something from her, playing games with her. She did not like it.

"What about that fool?" she demanded.

"That _fool_, Liwry said, has magic," Morgause said with amusement.

Morgana's eyes widened. _"No." _

"_Yes_. And that is how they escaped. He used his magic and knocked them all out so he and the prince could make their escape." Morgause explained, eyes sparkling with the reveal.

"And you believe him? Can Liwry be trusted on something like this?" Morgana asked quietly, letting the newest piece of information settle in.

That fool, that idiot, _Merlin_, had magic, had probably had magic the entire time she had known him. And then when she had discovered her own magic, when she had been so alone and suffering so, he had said nothing, had _done_ nothing to help ease her into her new powers. He had let her suffer; he had let her think she was all alone. Even when she had gone to him with her fears and feelings on the subject, he had still done and said nothing...

She had once thought him loyal friend, had even had a fleeting crush on him once when he had shown such bravery and loyalty to everyone he was close to, but now… Now she felt the same hatred and anger running through her for him as she felt for Uther and Arthur. And that was not good for him. Not good for anyone.

"All his men have said the same thing. And there is no other way they could have gotten out with their lives without magic. It all makes sense now, of course. How Arthur has survived this long, how he's always managing to stay one step ahead of us and thwart our efforts to take over the kingdom—he's had that manservant of his there the whole time, saving his life and trying to stop us." Morgause mused aloud, the pieces seeming to fall into place as she spoke.

Morgana scowled into the darkness, curled her fingers in on her palm and drew her own blood, her anger almost over-whelming. "Arthur must know nothing of this," she said then, trying to keep her head and not rush into the boy's chambers and kill him immediately. The death of Arthur's pathetic little manservant would be investigated thoroughly by the prince himself, after all. And she could not risk exposure. Not yet. "He hates magic just as much as his father does. The boy must be acting of his own accord," she added stiffly, jaw clenched and her face frozen with the anger she had nowhere to unleash.

Morgause closed the distance between them and took one of Morgana's hands in her own. She uncurled it, let her fingers dance across the trail of blood trickling down her sister's palm and stopped it from trailing down her arm further. She held it between both of hers and brought it to her lips for a moment before she smirked.

"Don't you see, sister?" she asked.

"See what? That the boy is a coward, a low-life, willing to let his own suffer and to willingly save the life of one who would have him burned without a second thought if he knew what he really was?" Morgana scoffed, yanking her hand back from between Morgause's.

"No, dear sister," Morgause shook her head and took Morgana's face gingerly between her hands. "This changes _everything_. There is a sorcerer _so close_ to the crowned prince—closer to him than you've been to him in _years_," her eyes sparkled with the devious sort of spark Morgana had grown accustomed to, that she had associated with home and belonging. Now, though, the look filled her with dread and left her cold inside. She didn't care about killing Arthur—not in that moment.

No, all she wanted now was to know why Merlin had left her to suffer, why he had turned his back on her. She needed to know what would possess someone to turn their back on their own kind so coldly, so heartlessly.

"Merlin will not work for us," she scoffed, sure that was what Morgause's words meant. "His loyalties lie with Arthur. He will do nothing that puts his beloved prince in harm's way."

"He does not have to work for us," Morgause said, her patience almost sickeningly annoying to Morgana's irritated ears. "He just has to do exactly what he's doing now. He just has to be the prince's manservant, and in time, everything will play out to our advantage."

"What good will it do us?" Morgana demanded. "All this time he's been a sorcerer and everything has gone wrong. He has been the undoing of all our plans since the beginning—how is this anything but bad?" she finished, shrugging out of Morgause's grasp once again.

"Because now that we know about it, we can use it to our advantage." She smirked, her face lighting up with the look that Morgana knew meant a plan was forming in her head. Whatever Morgause was planning now, Morgana had no doubt that it was a grand plan indeed and that Merlin would play a big role in it. Whether he knew it or not.

And Morgana was fine with whatever Morgause decided they needed to do. As long as she was able to extract an answer out of Merlin and then seek her revenge on him—and take her rightful place on the throne of Camelot, of course—she didn't really care what else happened.

But first she needed her revenge.

* * *

**That was _not_ what you were expecting, was it? You know, you guys should learn to trust me; despite outward appearances, I _do_ have a plan for this story. Well, kind of. I did a lot of outlining, at least. **

**Know what, though? I've hated Morgana for the longest time and could never quite understand just why they didn't kill her off sooner than they did, but after writing this chapter... _I get it._ Like, Morgana and Morgause are _really_ fun to write for when they're being all evil and shit. It's really quite enjoyable.**

**Always,  
Hisa-Ai.**


	5. Taken

**Disclaimer: **_Noooooope_. I do not now, nor have I ever claimed to, own _Merlin_ in any way, shape, or form.

* * *

_Merlin's Secret_

**Chapter 5: **_  
Taken_

* * *

When his day started with his father requesting him to meet in his council chambers, Arthur knew it was going to be a _long_ day indeed. A private meeting first thing in the morning, when other, more important matters were usually attended to, meant something was going on that Arthur was meant to take care of himself.

Merlin readied him in silence, his face pensive in an irritating manner that Arthur just let be without teasing. Since finding out about his magic the previous day and having an almost proper discussion about it, Arthur felt as though he was walking on glass around him. He didn't know what he should say, how he should act, what he should be doing at all, really.

And it was... _frustrating_.

He just wanted to be able to talk to Merlin about everything, to ask the burning questions that had piled up over the night and morning, but, for once in his life, he didn't know how to approach the subject head on and instigate a proper conversation on it. It was almost enough to drive him mad were he not used to such high-stress situations.

Sure, Merlin had tentatively used his magic around him that morning and answered the odd question that happened to be allowed to pop up about it—"How do you know that's not going to burn me?" "Can you make food appear?" "Can you make Gwaine's sword disappear during training?" "Can you figure out where Liwry is?" "Can you give Morgana warts?"—but, for the most part, he was oddly silent most of the morning, barely keeping up their banter and acting nervous, as though he expected Arthur to blow up on him or snap any second and march down to his father to turn him in—which he would never do.

Merlin was jumpy, Arthur noticed, he broke a plate, a vase and somehow managed to crack a pitcher, he strapped his armor on too tight, made his bath too hot, his food too cold, and a few other things that might have bothered Arthur any other day. But, as it was, he was still getting used to Merlin having magic, and his mind was otherwise occupied, so he was willing to over-look it all until Merlin realized completely that his secret was safe with him. That he had no reason to ever doubt that or hide from him.

But why was it taking him so long to get the message? Honestly, if he had wanted to turn him in, he would have done it already! Did he have that little faith, that little trust in him as a person, as a friend?

Biting back a wave of annoyance, Arthur shrugged out of Merlin's grasp and finished straightening his armor himself. It hadn't been that long since the reveal, he told himself, maybe he was still just a tad nervous. Arthur tried to put himself in Merlin's place, tried to imagine what it would be like to keep such a huge secret from someone so close to him on penalty of death. He found the notion itself gave him the beginnings of a headache.

A moment later, he pushed out his door, Merlin silently following him down to where his father had requested his presence.

~!~!~!~!~!~

Merlin had just left to ready the horses and gather the knights; they were to ride out that afternoon to investigate claims of druids making camp much too close to the city's borders. Merlin had been hesitant when Arthur had told him what his father wanted of him for the day—the same hesitance was in his own eyes, he was sure—but had gone off to do it anyway. Because it was still his job and how would Arthur explain to his father why his manservant would not do as he was told?

Left to pull his own things together, Arthur wandered over to the window and saw Merlin in the courtyard, idly saddling up a horse while Gwaine, Lancelot, Percival, Elyan, and Leon sat on horses of their own, all talking and joking around as he went about his work, obviously trying not to become too distracted by their words and horseplay.

Gwaine reached over and unlatched the saddle when Merlin turned his back for a second, the whole thing slipping off and landing on the ground near his feet. The knights all laughed, joined by Merlin as he rolled his eyes and carefully placed the saddle back in place, buckled it up and made sure everything was securely in place before moving on to ready his own horse for the journey.

Arthur went back to straightening his cape and searching for his sword, ignoring the all too familiar feeling that came that day with observing Merlin for too long. He knew with a few simple words or an intense golden gaze, Merlin could have all the horses ready to go in a second, could fix anything Gwaine's screwing around broke in even less time…

But, of course, that would mean exposing himself and that… that was something that could not happen. Not as long as Arthur's father sat on the throne.

Arthur swallowed the bitter taste on his tongue. Finding out that Merlin had magic had shocked the prince, to say the least, and he had said in the moment that he wasn't mad at Merlin for keeping such a secret, but now—after it had time to sink in and he could chew everything over with a good night's sleep—he was beginning to feel…

Well, _mad_.

Or at least, something that _resembled_ anger.

He knew, logically, that Merlin's life was in great danger in Camelot, and that just telling him what he had put his life in even greater danger. He also knew that Merlin had never used his magic for the evils his father would believe he did. He had a good reason to keep it all in, to never tell a soul about his magic, but surely he had _known_, after all their time together, that Arthur would never mean him any harm? That he would never let any sort of harm come to him by _anyone?_ Not as long as he was still breathing?

How could he not tell him? Not even hint at it?

Curling his hands into fists, Arthur realized then just how utterly mad he was at Merlin. He had little right to be, he knew, which was why he closed his eyes and took in a breath to calm himself. Things were already awkward enough between them as it was—how could he risk making things worse with petty anger that was almost a day overdue?

He swallowed the anger, he buried it under all their happy memories and their friendship and everything that had happened between them over the years and reminded himself that everything Merlin had ever done was for the good of the kingdom or Arthur himself. Everything he hid from him, everything he lied to him about was all for a reason.

He had to remember that.

Making sure the anger was as good as forgotten for the time being, he crossed to his door and swung it open. Now all he had to do was convince everyone else that he wasn't angry and all would be well.

~!~!~!~!~!~!

"So remind me again, princess—what's the point of this little… excursion?" Gwaine asked after a short time of riding, eerie silence surrounding the group as their horses trampled through the forest.

"There has been word of druids camping around here and my father wished us to investigate." Arthur sighed, casting a wondering look back at Merlin.

"Right, but aren't druids supposed to be peaceful? Why don't we just leave them be?"

"Because they're in the woods of Camelot."

"Right, but—"

"Gwaine, just… drop it, would you?" Arthur sighed, his tone tired in a way Gwaine wasn't used to.

"As you wish, _sire,_" he muttered mockingly, silence falling upon them once again.

Gwaine looked to the other knights then with a question in his eyes. Usually, on a trip like this, Arthur was all enthusiastic about the objective and doing the right and noble thing for the good of the kingdom, et cetera et cetera. But this time he almost seemed as though he'd rather be doing anything else than wandering around looking for druids that might not even be there anymore. None of the others knew any more than he did, though, so they merely shrugged back, probably all wondering about the same things.

It wasn't just Arthur who was acting out of sorts though, he noted, it was Merlin as well. Usually, he'd be giving the prince hell for the tiniest of things, starting a comfortable back-and-forth that rested upon the knights like a warm blanket. When Merlin and Arthur were bickering with one another, all was well. But when they were hardly speaking… The tension, the awkwardness, it cut through them all, made them all extremely uncomfortable.

If it had been just Arthur Merlin wasn't getting on with at the moment, Gwaine might not be so worried—they had their spats just as all friends did—but he wasn't talking to him or any of the other knights either. On most trips and patrols, Merlin had been known to fall back and goof off with Gwaine or Lancelot or whoever else was in the mood for joking or goofing off, but, even at the prompting off all of them, he still hadn't fallen back, choosing instead to keep distance between them and Arthur, his face blank and thoughtful.

The journey through the forest was a long one that day.

Finally, however—_finally!_—Arthur halted in front of them, motioned for them to stop and dismounted his horse. Everyone else followed his lead without prompt and fell in line behind him, Merlin winding up just between Arthur and Gwaine.

They slowly worked their way through the brush, following Arthur and whatever instinct or noise he was being lead by until he halted and searched something out around some thick bushes, his sharp sudden intake of breath alerting the others to what he had found. The druids. It had to be.

Just in front of him, Gwaine saw one of Merlin's hands curl into a fist, the other coming up to rest on Arthur's shoulder, squeezing it almost… _soothingly._

Interesting. Odd, but... _interesting._

Their odd behavior, Gwaine realized, had all started the previous day after their encounter with Cenred's men, that Liwry bloke, after the pair narrowly escaped death. They were put in situations like that all the time, however, and it hardly ever effected Merlin and Arthur's relationship before—

Oh. _Relationship._

When the knights had finally stumbled upon the duo, they had seemed to be locked in an emotional embrace. Merlin even, it had seemed, had been crying. They had both been smiling though, flustered almost, Arthur had been full of uncharacteristically kind words about the boy. More than that, though, they had been touching far too much lately for _just friends_, they'd stared at each other a lot, they hated being separated…

Had the two become lovers without telling anybody? And then had a lover's _quarrel? _The thought didn't sit quite right in Gwaine's stomach, for some reason. He couldn't have been jealous, though...

Unless he was.

Arthur hadn't shrugged out of Merlin's touch yet, something he would have done by now had the hand belonged to anyone else in a situation such as this.

Gwaine's suspicions, though, were completely confirmed when Arthur tilted his head and stared at Merlin for a moment, his gaze wondering and affectionate, before he nodded and turned his gaze back to the druids.

Gwaine turned to look at the other knights, wondering if they were seeing what he was seeing, if they thought the same thing he did. They all raised their eyebrows, all incredibly in sync with one another.

Ah, _well_… He let out a low whistle and turned back around.

At least Lancelot knew he could safely pursue Guinevere now. At least _Lancelot_ could be happy. The prince, as it turned out, was happily—or not-so-happily, at the moment—taken.

~!~!~!~!~!~

The druid camp was just as all druid camps they had ever stumbled upon were. A fire, clothes hanging out to dry, numerous tents, groups of women talking and children playing and men attending to whatever business they had, and, of course, someone whispering _Emrys_ into Merlin's head.

Merlin watched Arthur out of the corner of his eye, wondering what their next move would. They could take the camp right then and there and probably kill a good many of them. Merlin would try to save as many as he could, try to get most of them to run, but many would still die and he would still lose sleep over the loss of his kind, all so innocent and just wanting to live in peace.

"Arthur…" Merlin mumbled then, turning his head to look at him, hand still on his shoulder. Arthur turned to face him, swallowed when he made eye contact. Merlin understood how difficult this must have been for him. Under normal circumstances—_before_ he found out about Merlin's magic—he wouldn't have hesitated, he would have charged into the camp and done what he thought he needed to do…

But it was different now, wasn't it? He couldn't kill innocent people who, as far as he knew, had never done any wrong with their magic while he allowed Merlin to live.

Merlin saw the conflict play out on his face, his eyebrows drawn together; he was to do as his father said, but did he not owe these people, _his_ people, the chance to live in the peace they created for themselves? Where would his loyalties lie, Merlin wondered: with Merlin, with his people, or with his father?

Arthur nodded then, looked once more to the druids, then turned to his knights, Merlin's hand falling carefully from his shoulder.

"Fall back; they're just travelers passing through." He told them. Merlin kept his face still, not moving a single facial muscle even as Gwaine and Lancelot looked to him curiously. Arthur had shown where his loyalties laid; he should show him the same courtesy.

"But, my lord—" Leon began, trying to step around Arthur.

Arthur held a hand up, preventing his progress forward with a stern gaze and stubborn words, "I _said_ they're just travelers, Leon. The druids my father spoke of are long gone,"

The knights looked at one another, their expressions curious and confused. Merlin was afraid for a moment that they would ignore Arthur's words and check out the situation themselves, but they were all too loyal to Arthur to do that, so they all fell back, albeit reluctantly.

"Of course, sire. My mistake," Leon said, turning with the other knights to make their way back to the horses.

As a stray whisper entered Merlin's head thanking him for his help in softening the Prince's hatred towards magic, Merlin caught Arthur's eye and nodded his thanks. Arthur closed his own eyes in return and shook his head, then walked off to find his knights.

_Great_, Merlin was supposed to work on getting _rid_ _of_ Arthur's anger, not making more.

He sighed, but caught up with everyone anyway. At least the druids were safe. Arthur could bury all the anger he wanted to for him, but if Merlin could help keep just a few innocent people alive with the help of Arthur…

Well, it was all worth it, wasn't it?

* * *

**Gwaine being convinced that Arthur and Merlin are in a secret relationship is the best thing ever and no one can convince me otherwise. 'Cause, like, what're they gonna do, be all, "What? No no no no no, Gwaine, I've just found out Merlin has magic and I'm just trying to come to terms with it," to try to squash the rumors? I don't think so. **

**Also, on a completely unrelated note, how would you lot feel about evil!Gwen? It's just something I've been playing around with, but I can't quite decide if I want to go through with it or if that trope wore out its welcome on the show... Just wondering.**

**Always,  
Hisa-Ai.**


	6. Rumors

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Merlin_.

* * *

_Merlin's Secret_

**Chapter 6: **_  
Rumors_

* * *

Upon returning to the palace and reporting to his father that there were no druids to be found, Arthur had dismissed his knights for the day and locked himself in his room. He wanted no visitors, he informed the guards he stationed at his door, not even his _manservant_ was to be let in until he brought around his dinner that evening.

No one was allowed in. _Period._

After the guards sent Merlin away for the third time, he sighed in defeat. Arthur _knew_ he was trying to get in to see him, he had to have heard his voice, his constant attempts at trying to reason his way past the guards, but it was obvious he wanted little to do with him at the moment. And the realization actually stung Merlin quite a bit.

But, he shortly realized, it had to have upset him to lie to his father like that, to go against everything he had grown up with and let the druids be. He had done the right thing, but it had to have messed him up. Mentally, he was probably having a hard time, which was why he wanted to be alone. Seeing Merlin then… might have made everything that much harder to understand and come to terms with.

Resigned to the fact that he just wouldn't see Arthur until dinner time, Merlin decided he should pay Lancelot a visit. He had just passed Gwen in the hallway, so he was almost _sure_ he could catch Lancelot in his room before he went to meet the other knights at the tavern…

Jogging through the hallways and past unapproving guards and servants, he found himself at Lancelot's room in no time, knocked and entered quickly as soon as Lancelot made his own presence known.

"Merlin! I was wondering when we might have a word," Lancelot greeted as Merlin slipped the door shut.

Despite everything that had happened in the last couple of days, Merlin found himself grinning, if there was anyone in the world he could always count on, it was Lancelot. He had known about his magic the longest—well, longest of the knights, anyway—and had never felt the need to lock him out for an extended period of time because of it or anything he'd had to do because of it.

"Yeah, me, too. It's… been a wild couple of days," Merlin pulled a face and sank down into the chair Lancelot offered him.

"Yeah, I'll bet," Lancelot grinned knowingly in response.

"What is it?" Merlin asked flatly, wondering what the walls were saying about him this time. It was always _something:_ that he was an incompetent servant, that he was warming the royal bed, that he was stupid loyal, a fool—being the prince's personal servant came with a plethora of eyes on him and rumors that tended to get around.

"Gwaine…" Lancelot began.

"What'd he do _now?_" Merlin sighed.

"He may have started a rumor about you and Arthur."

"What, that I'm warming his bed? That's nothing new." Merlin relaxed against the chair, that rumor had been going around for as long as Merlin had been working for Arthur. No one really paid it much mind any more. But why would Gwaine want to restart it, give it more kindle to make it burn brighter than it had in a while? What would he get out of it?

"No, it's not quite that," Lancelot shook his head.

"Oh? What then?" Merlin asked, confused.

"Well, you and Arthur earlier, when we came across the druid camp, he believed your behavior was… outside the realm of friendship."

"What?" Merlin pulled a face, still confused. Lancelot wasn't making any sort of sense. If Gwaine wasn't saying that Merlin was warming Arthur's bed, then what—

"Gwaine and the other knights think Arthur is courting you." Lancelot said at last.

Merlin's mouth dropped open with his words. Gwaine thought Arthur was _courting_ him? It was one thing to say they were having _sex_, Uther moreorless agreed with Arthur letting off steam that didn't result in unwanted pregnancy, but courting Merlin, intending to one day _marry_ him, if word got to the king… Merlin might have found himself without a head soon enough.

"C-courting me?" he repeated slowly with wide eyes. "Why would he think… what could have _possibly_ given him that idea?" he asked.

Jesus, _courting_ him. Arthur was going to get a kick out of that. Well, after he kicked Gwaine's ass and stuck Merlin in the stocks for an afternoon. Then he would find it _hilarious_.

Lancelot shrugged. "Yesterday with Liwry and his men—you still have to tell me what _really_ happened back there, by the way—when we found you two and you were hugging, Gwaine says it looked more like a confessional hug than a glad-you're-alive hug." Merlin made a frustrated sound, he couldn't even enjoy Arthur's rare hugs now without rumors being started? _Great_.

"Plus, today, with the druid thing and the way you pair were acting," Lancelot shrugged again. "He says it was like you two were in a lover's quarrel or something. He's got plenty more evidence to back it up—between you and me, I think he's rather jealous—and he _does_ make a _very_ compelling case," he grinned. "I myself almost bought into it by the time he was done. Myself and Leon, by the way, are your biggest supporters."

"Mmm, it's not funny," Merlin grinned back.

He was _trying_ to be serious, really he was, and he knew if word got around to Uther about any of this he was as good as dead, but there was something about the way Lancelot talked about it—like no matter what, everything was going to be _okay_ and that if he and Arthur _were_ a couple it was all right, because the knights were behind them—that made him want to grin and goof off and be a fool with his friends all day instead of worrying about anything else too much.

And since Arthur didn't want to see him anyway…

"All right," Merlin grinned again. "First, I tell you what really happened with Liwry, and then you tell me where you are with Gwen. Right?" Merlin offered slyly, still grinning as Lancelot made a face of disapproval yet hope.

It was no secret in the castle that noble Sir Lancelot had eyes for the handmaid to the king's ward. Just as it was no secret that while the girl herself, Guinevere, had eyes for him in return, she was also still quite fond of _the prince_. But her heart, truly, belonged to Lancelot. That much Merlin was sure of.

"But Arthur—" Lancelot protested.

Of course, Arthur had expressed his own interest in Gwen once, too, but Merlin knew, truly knew, that the prince was not one to understand or express feelings of the heart when they needed to be expressed. By the time he truly understood how he was feeling about someone or some_thing_, there would be something new for him to try to understand, and the original feeling was almost as good as gone.

He may have become aware of his feelings for Guinevere too late. But Lancelot… Lancelot _belonged_ with Gwen and he knew it all along. Something he had over the prince.

"_But Arthur_ is courting _me_, remember?" Merlin interrupted, eliciting a laugh from Lancelot. "So don't worry about him. Now, Liwry…"

~!~!~!~!~!~

He had said he'd wanted to be left alone in his room for the rest of the afternoon, but after an hour's worth of pacing and stewing and thinking much too much about Merlin's magic and leaving the druid camp against his father's orders, Arthur decided he needed something outside of his room. He needed to get out, to do something, to get some air in his lungs that didn't have Merlin's scent lingering about.

Trying to be stealthy—he didn't know if Merlin was still hanging about or if he'd left until dinner time as requested—Arthur left his room and rounded several corners, twisting through the halls in a route he was _sure_ Merlin didn't take often, if at all.

He couldn't have been going along for fifteen minutes—still thinking about everything, of course—when he heard someone say his name breathlessly, almost surprised. After he was certain it wasn't Merlin—there had been no insult tacked on afterwards—he looked up and caught Gwen's eye as she approached him, beaming as she balanced a wicker basket in her arms.

Ah, Guinevere.

He imagined he should have been thrilled to see her after the couple of days he'd been having, but he wasn't even put in much of a good mood by the sight of her. He still just wanted to be left alone to his thoughts, though it was his own fault for leaving his room, he supposed.

Still, she had seen him and caught his attention, it would be rude to leave without so much as a greeting now.

"Guinevere," he nodded, a tight smile popping up for a fraction of a second before returning his face to it's thoughtful, worried frown.

"Arthur. How are you? I'd heard you were locked up in your room for the day," she said, standing just across from him with too little space in between. He took a step backwards and ignored the frown on her face. Space and time is what he needed from everyone at the moment. That included her.

"Right, I was, but I… needed some air. Decided to take a stroll around the castle." He shrugged.

How much could he tell her without raising suspicion? Did she know? Who else knew about Merlin's magic? And how had they found out before Arthur? Had Merlin told anyone else before Arthur found out? _Who did he trust more than Arthur?_

"Around the back halls?" she asked, seemingly oblivious to the anger trying to rear up inside Arthur's veins. "Forgive me, sire, but usually just servants pass through here. You don't really see many royals around these halls." She smiled, trying to coax a smile out of him just as he'd done to Merlin the previous day.

It wasn't working any better than when Arthur had tried it either.

"Good, less chance of running into Merlin, then." He scoffed under his breath before he could stop himself.

Gwen raised an eyebrow. "Has Merlin done something to upset you? You know, whatever it was, he didn't mean it." She said soothingly, and for a moment, Arthur remembered all there was to love about Gwen, how she was always standing up for her friends, her loyalty passed only by Merlin himself…

But then the moment passed and Arthur found himself battling against a new wave of anger. _Loyalty_. Merlin was the most loyal person Arthur had ever known—even more loyal than Arthur's most trusted knights… But how loyal was a person who hid such a secret and made him lie to his father? What good was loyalty without trust?

"Thank you, Guinevere," Arthur said tersely. "But I'm afraid it isn't quite that simple. Do you know where Merlin is right now?" he asked.

He had been wanting to avoid him for a while longer, but now he needed… he just needed to see Merlin for a moment and then he would know what he _needed,_ what he wanted.

"I thought you wanted to avoid him?" She asked, even more confused.

"I do, I did, but there's something I feel I should discuss with him, something that transcends our petty squabble at the moment," he said in reply, not sure if it was true himself.

Gwen's face relaxed into one of recognition and knowing. "Is it about your father's birthday tomorrow?" she asked.

"What? Yes, yes, of course—what else would it be about?" he lied, grinning with her.

She seemed placated, her whole body relaxing when she realized—when she thought, anyway—that Merlin wasn't in any trouble.

"Well, last I saw of him, he went into Lancelot's room about an hour ago." She told him.

She said something else then, he was sure of it, but he didn't hear it; he was already turning around and making his way to the knights' chambers, wondering what Merlin might be doing with Lancelot.

He still didn't know what he was going to say to him until he found himself outside Lancelot's door and it swung open, revealing his most noble of knights and manservant, grinning and laughing about something or another. They stopped when they saw Arthur standing there, greeted him with the same surprise Gwen had when she saw him out of his room.

Arthur gaped at them for a moment, torn. He couldn't very well go off on Merlin with Lancelot standing just there. Unless—did Lancelot _know?_ Had Merlin told Lancelot before he told Arthur? No, but what if he hadn't? He couldn't risk Merlin's secret, Merlin's life, like that.

Shaking off his resolve to yell at the boy, he turned to Merlin with a stern gaze. "You need to go muck out the stables. All of them. For me, the knights, the court, _everyone_. And have my dinner to me hot and on time for once. If you're late, I'll have you put in the stocks for a week. Are we clear?" he demanded, ignoring Lancelot's gaze and focusing only on Merlin's steady, daring, confused, accepting one.

"Crystal, sire," he bowed slightly, lips turning up a quirk.

Aggravated, Arthur turned on his heel and stalked off back to his room, ignoring whatever murmured conversation Lancelot and Merlin were having in his wake.

* * *

**I promise you guys _will_ get a proper discussion between Arthur and Merlin about everything sooner or later. Cross my heart.**

**How _pissed, _though, is Arthur gonna be when he finds out that Lancelot knew before him? Seriously...**

**Always,  
Hisa-Ai.**


End file.
